


Pok-e-what?

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gaming, Gen, Pokemon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 23:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12023559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Dean tugs at the neck of his too tight tee and shuffles his feet. “I look like a moron.”Sam huffs a laugh, readjusts his jacket and pats Dean on the shoulder. “You look like a gamer, now stop fussing. Come on.”





	Pok-e-what?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the spn_summergen 2017 challenge!
> 
> THANK YOU to all who left such lovely comments on my piece I shall be hopping along and replying forthwith, I can actually reveal this was for theatregirl7299 but RL got in her way, bless her heart ♥ So I hope she enjoys it!

Sam gently flicks oil over Dean’s eggs; sunny side up, just the way he likes them, and shouts for his brother. “Dean, DEAN! Breakfast’s ready. You coming or what?”

Dean’s not exactly what you’d call _awake_ but the scent of freshly crisped bacon and eggs lightly frying in the pan call to him on a level no woman **ever** has.

His olfactory senses may be in full working order and dragging him through the Bunker, but they aren’t in charge of Dean’s basic motor functions and his feet somehow forget there’s a giant step down into the kitchen, causing him to stumble and lose his balance.

Landing heavily on the floor, pyjama bottoms tangled around his ankles, Dean looks up at Sam and grins sleepily. “You get taller?”

Sam snorts at his brother and waves the spatula in front of his face before grimacing and turning back to the eggs still popping and spitting in the pan. “Dean, dude, no one wants to see that first thing in the morning. Put it away, would you?”

Swiping at his eyes, trying to dislodge the bright multi-coloured dots dancing at the edges of his vision, Dean can’t figure out what Sam’s whining about until he feels the chill of granite tiles pressed against his bare ass. Looking down, noting that he’s sans boxers, Dean chuckles and begins trying to get to his feet. “Sorry man, forget I wasn’t wearing any briefs, s’not like you haven’t seen my fine behind before.”

Sam rolls his eyes and starts plating up their breakfast. “”True, but now I’m gonna have to bleach that bit of the floor.”

Finally making it to his feet, pyjamas still twisted around his legs, Dean grabs the waistband and jumps, yanks and grunts until he’s suitably covered. “Stop being such a priss. You’re just jealous you don’t measure up.”

Sam huffs a laugh and places Dean’s plate on the counter. “Difference between you and me - I don’t _need_ to measure.”

“Ha-ha-ha!”

Sliding into his seat, Dean grabs his cutlery and starts shovelling food into his mouth, enjoying the way Sam’s pained moans get louder with every open mouthed bite of bacon.

Teeth and tongue caked in mashed up egg white and crushed bacon, Dean gives Sam a toothy grin, pointedly ignoring the yolk dripping off his chin. “Really? You’re gonna have a go at me about my table manners when there are bowls full of rottin’ salad in your room that could knock out a horse? Since when did fermentin’ Kale Smoothies become a collectors item, anyway?!”

Sam’s face flushes bright red whilst he intently studies his own plate full of food. “Point taken. No more complaining about your eating habits. Anyway, hurry up, we’ve got a _day_.”

Dean slurps loudly on his coffee, washing down the last mouthful of glorious fried food, before belching loudly and smirking at Sam’s sickened grimace. “You find us a case?”

Sam chews slowly on a mouthful of egg whites and nods. The look on Dean’s face as he regards Sam’s far more healthy breakfast is one of pure hatred.

Sam thinks perhaps his brother actually believes that anything without a layer of grease on it is evil.

It irritates Dean so much that Sam cooks himself the heart attack free version just for the sheer amusement of watching Dean consider salting and burning everything that passes across his side of the table, even if some days all Sam wants is a burger and chips for breakfast.

Swallowing and gently wiping his mouth with a napkin, Sam snorts at Dean’s over the top eye-roll. “What, we’re not all pigs with our food! Anyway, yes, we have a case. I think. Some guy in Oregon disappeared a few days ago after spending an all night session in an arcade. He and his friends were taking part in some gaming competition. They all fell asleep around 5am, when they woke up, he was nowhere to be seen.”

Dean dumps his plate in the sink and starts scrubbing. “How is that _our_ kind of deal?”

“Police discovered one of the machines was in full working order - ”

“It’s an arcade Sam, they’re meant to be - ”

“It wasn’t attached to a power supply.”

“Okay, I stand corrected. It’s _our_ kind of deal.”

*****************

Sam informs Dean that their usual Fed-Threads won’t be needed, but they might have to stop by the local thrift store.

“And why exactly won’t they work, Sammy? We can just go in and force them to - “

Sam shakes his head and drags Dean from the car. “They’ll clam up and tell us nothing. They’re gamers. Gamers don’t like outsiders, and they really don’t like outsiders wearing badges.”

“Why is that, exactly? Wait, how do you even **know** this?”

Sam’s cheeks redden and he ducks his head before opening the door to the thrift store and stepping in. “In college I - well, Jess and I - I was a gamer, okay?”

Dean follows Sam into the shop and bursts out laughing. “You were a card carryin’ member of the geek squad? Why does that not surprise me!”

Sam spins and pins Dean with a stare that quite clearly says _fuck you_. “Gamer, not **Geek** , okay? And it was fun. It’s a family, a way to spend time with people who understand your passions and, shut up, STOP laughing.”

Dean tries and fails to train his face into the picture of understanding, only to burst into loud guffaws five seconds later. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. So what got you two into gaming anyway? I mean you - yeah sure - nerd through and through but Jess, she was a hot chick, way too hot to be stuck in some basement with sweaty pimply overweight dudes all fiddling with knobs and buttons.”

Sam spins and slaps Dean upside the head then waits for the ringing in his brother’s ears to stop before crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot. “For your information, Dean, the majority of gamers these days are _chicks_ and those chicks are hotter than any of the bar back humping beer flies you keep hooking up with.”

“Hot nerdy chicks. I’m beginnin’ to like this case.”

“You put the ass in class, Dean!”

Dean looks around the thrift store and tilts his head. “What are we doin’ here?”

“We need new clothes.”

“Oh HELL no, Sammy. I’m not - “

“If you want to find out what went on that night, you have to blend in. Plaid and denim isn’t gonna cut it.”

**************

Dean tugs at the neck of his too tight tee and shuffles his feet. “I look like a moron.”

Sam huffs a laugh, readjusts his jacket and pats Dean on the shoulder. “You look like a gamer, now stop fussing. Come on.”

Dean reluctantly follows after Sam. “What exactly do gamers _look_ like?”

Sam opens the arcade doors and is hit by the sounds of hundreds of guys and girls all shouting encouragement and enjoying themselves, and he’s taken back to a time where life seemed a hell of a lot simpler. “This.”

Dean’s about to say something severely sarcastic when he actually looks up into the crowd of bodies all amassed around certain machines and is struck almost dumb. “Holy crap!”

The shock and admiration in Dean’s voice brings a sense of pride to Sam, who’s still a gamer at heart and knows that the stereotypical fat dude in a basement is _not_ the truth. Showing his brother this place and this world is something he’s been dying to do for years. These people gave him a home and a family when his own seemed so far away. “See, not a single sweat drenched virgin anywhere.”

Dean takes a moment to really study the people all clapping their hands and shouting their friends on in whatever game they’re immersed in and is shocked to find himself digging the vibe in the room. “You ain’t kiddin’.”

There’s more body art in this place than he’s seen at the local Lebanon Biker rallies, and the piercings and leather that adorn both men and women are making Dean wonder if he should ask if they have any spaces going for newbies. The women’s outfits are quite frankly pornographic and if ever there were a place he could happily spend a few days just chilling, it’s here. They’ve got beer and baskets full of food that are making his mouth water.

Dean taps Sam on the shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Do you have a tattoo I don’t know about?”

Sam chuckles and walks further into the room. “Maybe.”

The spluttering and coughing behind Sam makes him laugh loudly as he reaches out towards a woman who seems curious about the two newcomers. “Hey. We’re new in town, thought we’d check out the scene. Any tips?”

Sam’s usually a little nervous chatting to marks and witnesses but Dean notes the strong set of his jaw and the ease with which he falls into the role of curious gamer.

Dean’s also used to being the guy the girls notice because Sam’s always too busy trying to curl in on himself and hide his height to attract attention from the opposite sex, but when Dean sidles up to the woman chatting animatedly to his brother, she turns her head, nods once without paying him much mind, and looks back at Sam like the sun’s shining from his eyes.

“Huh. Who knew?”

Carly, the woman who’s so into the conversation she’s using her arms and hands to talk, turns back to Dean and tilts her head. “What was that, fella?”

Dean smirks and shakes his head before winking at Sam. “Nothin’ nothin’. So, were you here the other night, when that guy disappeared?”

Sam mouths _subtle_ behind Carly’s head and Dean narrows his eyes before ploughing on. “I hear no one’s seen him since.”

Carly looks between the two men crowding round her and is struck by a resemblance that’s neither physical nor obvious, but it’s there, nonetheless. “You two, are you - are you related?”

Sam rolls his eyes and smirks before nodding and leaning nonchalantly against an unused arcade machine. “We move to a new town and _still_ I can’t get away from being pegged for being related to this dude. Yes. We’re brothers. Anyway, I’m curious, _were_ you here the other night? Should we be worried about using this place?”

Carly regards Sam and thinks maybe he’d be fun for an all-nighter, then realises she still hasn’t answered his question. “Yeah, I was here. And no, Timmy hasn’t been seen since. It’s weird, we all kinda crashed about five. Slept where we fell. He’d just trounced the Tretta but he was wiped, like we all were.”

Dean looks at Carly like she’s grown a third nostril. “Tretta?”

Sam steps in before Dean outs the pair of them. “You remember, that weird looking custom machine the guys back in Kansas have been playing Pokemon on?”

Dean clocks his mistake and tries his best not to look like a fool in front of Carly who’s staring at him like _he’s_ grown a third nostril. “Yeah, crap, sorry, long drive, man. The brain isn't firing on all cylinders.”

Sam widens his eyes and mouths _shut up_ at Dean over Carly’s head before clearing his throat and trying to steer the conversation back on track. “So, you all fell asleep. Didn’t anyone hear Timmy leaving?”

Carly’s still imagining removing Sam’s Assassins Creed Tee with her teeth when she realises she’s staring slack mouthed at him. “Oh, uh, no. He didn’t leave. We’d have seen or heard something. He just wasn’t there any more. I know he got up and started using the machine again about half six, but I was so spaced I dropped back off to sleep. When we all came to he was gone.”

Sam continues to make small talk with Carly whilst Dean weighs up the options of asking her out on a date, when he notices she’s handing his little brother a piece of paper and smiling not-so-coyly at him.

Sammy the gamer’s got _game_. Nice.

Making a beeline for a woman who’s been eyeing him seductively since he walked in, Dean pulls at his Final Fantasy Tee and throws a salute at Sam. “Catch you later, Sammy, I’ll _leave you to it_.”

Sam rolls his eyes at Dean but smiles sweetly at Carly, who’s been slowly sliding closer to him the longer they speak.

Dean nods at the chick with a gorgeous tattoo snaking around her throat and down her left shoulder. “How you doin’, honey?”

“Not bad, nice Noctis shirt. What’s your favourite recipe?”

*********

“Crap, sorry!”

“Watch where you step, man.”

“It’s DARK in here.”

Dean waggles his foot and swears under his breath. “That’s because it’s nighttime, dick. I can’t feel my big toe.”

Sam straightens up and trains the flashlight beam across the arcade. “Oh no, how will you function? Isn’t that the toe with the one working brain cell in?”

“Fuck off.”

Sam finds the Tretta sitting unplugged against the far wall. It’s not a huge machine, he could probably pick it up and put it on his shoulder, but there’s something odd about it. It’s not so much something he can see but a sense of foreboding as he looks at it, tugging at his hunter instincts telling him to stay clear. “Got it. Come on.”

Dean wanders across the room and automatically plugs the machine in. “Let’s see what’s up with you, shall we?”

“Are you talking to an arcade machine?”

“Says the guy who just got laid by a girl who thinks he’s a hardened gamer with a year’s worth of Market Place points, whatever they are.”

“Touche.”

The machine fires up and they’re treated to a loud dancing light show complete with the cutest animals Dean has ever seen all waving and wishing him a good day. “They’re so adorable.”

“And you’re so _cute_.”

“Shut up, I’m allowed to find things adorable, doesn’t mean I’m any less manly. **You’re** cute!”

“So says Carly. So, you struck out, huh?”

“These gamer girls have no taste.”

Whilst Sam and Dean bicker the Tretta begins to vibrate slightly, causing a small disturbance in the air around the brothers, but neither notices, too intent on ripping it out of each other.

“Or maybe they have higher standards than you’re used to!”

Dean ignores Sam and starts fiddling with the buttons on the machine.

As he taps inanely against the display, trying to come up with a come back to strip one off of Sam, Dean feels a sudden jolt of electricity shooting down his arm, forcing his entire body into spasm. “S-S-Sammy!”

Too late, Sam tries to pull Dean’s hand away from the display, but he finds himself grabbing at thin air.

Spinning on the spot, Sam’s voice goes up an octave as he hisses his brother’s name. “Dean. _Dean_. **Dean** where the fuck are you?!”

There’s a hum like a bee buzzing around his head, but Sam’s too panicked to pay it much attention. “DEAN! Seriously dude, this isn’t funny.”

The hum gets louder and louder until Sam’s forced to try and figure out where it’s coming from. That’s when he looks down at the arcade machine’s display. “Oh, no, seriously?”

On the screen there’s a miniaturised version of his brother wearing Ash’s bright red cap and blue jacket - complete with overly wide white collar - jumping up and down, waving his arms and seemingly screaming at the top of his lungs.

“Okay, okay, calm, we’ll figure it out, you - you’re - ahahahaha - do you have any idea what you look like?”

Tiny Dean flips Sam off before muttering a string of curses that would have a sailor blushing.

*********

Sam’s slightly worried he’s about to get pinched for being inside the arcade at four in the morning whilst trying to jerry-rig a power source that will keep the machine functioning once it’s unplugged. There’s no guarantee he’ll be able to get Dean _out_ if the power goes off, and they can’t stay here. Sam’s gotta get his brother and the machine back to the Bunker.

Mini Dean jumps up and down on the spot, but Sam’s too busy wiring pieces together to pay much attention. “Fuckin’ typical. He’s the gamer, how’d _I_ get stuck in here. This is ridiculous. And this OUTFIT!”

Dean grabs at the baseball cap on his head and throws it down on the floor before violently grinding the heel of his trainer into it.

The satisfaction is short lived when Dean feels the damned baseball cap back on his head, unscathed and seemingly glued to his hair. “For fuck - SAMMY!”

Sam looks up and sees Dean’s face has gone a pretty shade of purple and he idly wonders if arcade game characters can have heart attacks. “Right, I think I’ve got it, and we’re gonna have to sort a speaker system out, I can barely hear you. Ready?”

Dean tries to peer passed the edge of the screen at the power supply plug only to find his nose mashed up against the glass. “NO!”

Sam closes his eyes and prays. “One - two - THREE!” Yanking hard against the lead, Sam winces and hunches his shoulders.

The lead comes away in his hand and Sam’s gratified and grateful to see the machine still has power. “Thank fuck for that. Right - home. We need to figure out _how_ this happened.”

Sam reaches down and hefts the machine onto his shoulder, not realising he’s just upended Dean who’s now rolling around on the display, bouncing against the edges of the screen, feeling like he’s going to throw up _forever_ \- cap still firmly in place on his head. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

***********

Sam pours over book after book looking for something, anything, that could help him recorporealise his brother, who’s currently sitting cross legged on the floor of the display, arms clasped angrily over his chest, face the colour of beets.

Dean’s refusing to talk and test out the new speaker system Sam rigged up, because he’s basically all kinds of pissed at the situation and having a thoroughly childish moment, and he doesn’t care who knows it.

It’s only when he can sense a shift on the air, even from _inside_ the damned machine, that Dean realises Sam’s the least of his worries when it comes to being discovered in a computer game. “Oh hell no!”

“The speakers work, then, Grumpy What’s up?”

Tiny Dean points over Sam’s shoulder and then hides his head in his hands.

“Hello boys.”

“Oh, yeah, shit, sorry Dean but I’m running out of options here and I thought - “

Crowley steps in close to the arcade machine and idly presses a few buttons. He finds to his great delight that Dean’s forced to his feet and made to walk around the screen without any of his own say-so. “Oh, this is perfect! A tiny Dean Winchester who has to do as he’s told. This must be killing him.”

Sam tries and fails to hide the amusement on his face as Dean threatens bloody retribution for Crowley’s joy and continued pressing of buttons.

“STOP IT!”

**click**

“ **STOP IT!** ”

“Crowley, I don’t mean to be a kill-joy but Dean will eventually get out of there and when he does, he’ll be able to shove an angel-blade right up your - “

Crowley regards Dean and winks at the mini hunter before turning away and sitting next to Sam. “So, found anything yet?”

Sam shoots a _sorry_ look at Dean, who’s gone back to his Buddha pose and is refusing to acknowledge either his brother or the Demon now resting his crossed-at-the-ankles feet on _his_ desk.

“Not really. If you want to communicate with trees or find a bird that can carry you around the world, I’ve got the goods right here, but pulling a human being out of a computer game - nothing. It’s not just Dean, there’s someone else in there, Timmy, guy disappeared from an arcade in Oregon about a week ago. We think he got zapped into the game.”

Crowley turns to Dean and leans in close, giving the tiny hunter a disturbing view of the Demon’s nostrils. “Anyone else in there with you, Squirrel?”

Dean would love nothing better than to beat the holy hell out of Crowley, but there’s a serious size difference, not to mention the fact he can actually tap his knuckles against the glass of the display caging him. “No. Nothing so far. Stop smirkin’ at me, Crowley or I swear I’ll - “

Crowley rests his chin against the machine, making sure to click one of the buttons which makes Dean’s arm shoot out above his head, and chuckles. “Or you’ll _what_? And there I was thinking Moose was the **cute** one.”

It’s then that Dean hears a faint sound of someone calling for help. It’s not so much words but the sound of panic and pain. Waggling the arm Crowley’s still got hovering above his head, Dean clicks his fingers repeatedly and shouts at Sam. “Sammy, I think I’ve found Timmy. Are there different levels for this thing?”

Sam’s head comes up and he realises he’s been a complete idiot. “Of COURSE. Yes, okay, I can try and load what Timmy was playing at the time he disappeared, but I have no clue what that is.”

“Ring Carly, you fuckin’ dick.”

Crowley turns and flicks an eyebrow at Sam. “Carly? Someone get their little Moose end away, did they?”

“Shut up, Crowley.”

Dragging his phone from his pocket, Sam scrolls until he finds Carly’s number and hits dial. “Hi - Uh, yeah I had a great time, yeah yeah sure, seeing you again would be - look I’ve got a question, might sound a bit weird but bear with me. What battle was Timmy playing when you woke up and saw him on the Tretta?”

The sound of a woman’s voice filters through Sam’s phone and Crowley’s curious as to what kind of lass would be playing video games _and_ boinking the Moose, but is too intrigued by the look on Sam’s face to say anything.

Sam nods vigorously and smiles to himself before thanking Carly and saying goodbye. “I’ll call.”

He turns his face from Crowley and Dean who are both watching him intently. “Promise, and no, that is _not_ an odd place for a tattoo.”

Sam hangs up and sees tiny Dean giving him the thumbs up, and a look that’s so filthy it should be banned in all fifty states let alone whilst he’s residing in a kids video game. Crowley just tilts his head and smirks. “Since when did you get all the tail?”

“Since Sammy’s apparently the geek god of gaming sexiness. That’s my boy!”

Sam shakes his head at Dean and sneers at Crowley. “Stop it. My sex life isn’t important right now - “

“Nothing new there, then.”

“CROWLEY!”

“Sorry, sorry, so, did the little chippy give you anything, other than the clap?”

Sam growls at Crowley and steps passed him to start fiddling with the buttons on the console. “Dean, I’m sorry, man. I don’t know if this is gonna hurt but I’ve gotta load up a level. Hang on to your ass.”

Dean’s suddenly whipped out of the blank welcome screen and bodily thrown into a battle scenario. His insides feel like soup but he’s soon busy checking his surroundings for their missing gamer.

Three very cute looking hybrid animal things sit waiting for instruction as a man not much younger than Sam sits and rocks back and forwards, sobbing into his hands and begging for help.

“Hey, hey, Timmy?”

The guy doesn’t hear Dean at first because he’s freaking out so hard, but finally after Dean lays a calming hand on his shoulder he jolts and looks up. “A-a-are you real?!”

Dean sits down next to Timmy and clicks his fingers towards the _screen_ where Sam and Crowley are peering in at them both. “I’m real, and we’re here to help.”

Timmy stares out at two ridiculously huge men whose faces couldn’t look more different. One is portraying sympathy, the other amusement. “Who are they? Who are YOU?!”

Dean keeps a wary eye on the giant flying dinosaur staring at him whilst squeezing Timmy’s shoulder. “I’m Dean, the long haired galoot out there is my brother, Sam. The other guy, he’s - he’s Crowley. We’re here to get you out.”

Sam’s indignant snort makes Dean smirk but he schools his features when Timmy turns watery eyes on him. “Seriously, we’ll get you _out_. I promise.”

Timmy sits as still as a statue for a moment and then throws himself into Dean’s arms. It’s all Dean can do not to shout blue murder at Crowley, who’s laughing so hard it’s vibrating the machine. “Crowley, when I’m full sized again I’m gonna kick every square inch of your ass, understood?”

Crowley waves a hand at the screen and turns back to Sam. “Understood, Squirrel. Nice hat by the way. Moose, I think I have a fix.”

Sam glares at Crowley and lowers his voice so as not to be heard _in the game_. “An actual fix, or a fix that involves you screwing the pair of us over and leaving Timmy to die in there?”

“An actual fix, moron. Even if I left Dean to live out his life as an anime character, which not being funny but the irony, what’s Dean’s favourite porn? Anyway, even if I left him there, you’re still here and quite capable of stabbing me in my fleshy bits. So, all I have to do is go in and bring them out.”

The response is universal. Three people - two tiny one huge - all shouting the same thing. “REALLY?!”

Crowley rolls his eyes and tutts at Sam before turning towards the game. “Yes really. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

***************

Dean leaps backwards as a tiny but no less irritating Crowley appears inside the game, a shower of red and black sparks marking his arrival, along with his usual smug little smirk twisting up his top lip.

“Morning, Squirrel. Pleasant day, isn’t it?”

Timmy; still quaking and hanging off of Dean’s pant leg, stares up at Crowley like he’s about to eat him. “Wh-wh-what - how?”

Dean looks down at his charge and awkwardly pats him on the head. “Ignore him, he’s just the taxi.”

Crowley sneers at Dean and makes to click his fingers. “Fine, fine, if you don’t need my help - enjoy your time here, I wonder if they let you cook the Pokemon when you get hungry.”

“Woah, okay Crowley no need to get snarky, and I’m gonna sail straight by the fact you even _know_ what a Pokemon is.”

Crowley rolls his eyes and steps in close to Dean and Timmy. “I had a life before you knew me, imbecile. Come on, Timothy, up you get.”

Timmy climbs up Dean’s leg, refusing to let go of him, and eyes the hand being offered by Crowley.

“Go on, you can trust him - well, no you can’t - but you can trust me.”

Crowley shakes his head and snorts at Dean’s mother hen routine, then snatches hold of both men before either of them can protest further. “Ponces, the pair of you.”

***************

Dean stands in front of Sam and Crowley, Timmy hanging off his arm, as he tries to subtly check everything is in it’s proper _place_.

Sam shakes his head and wraps an arm around Timmy’s shoulders before guiding him to a seat, whilst Crowley smirks and chuckles. “Need me to check that for you, Dean?”

“Touch me and die.”

Crowley nods and grins then clicks his fingers. “That’s my cue - you two **owe** me.”

With Crowley gone Dean can focus on checking Timmy’s okay. “Dude, look at me, we’re safe. We need to get you home before you’re declared dead.”

“Dead?! How long was I in there!”

***********

It’s only after Dean and Sam have deposited Timmy outside his house with a rapidly concocted story to tell the police, about being drunk and wandering off and hitting his head, that Sam chooses to mention something that’s been amusing the hell out of him for hours.

“Dean, I like the new look.”

“New look?”

“Yeah - “ Sam tips the Impala’s driver’s mirror enough to show Dean what exactly he’s wearing. ” **New** _look_.”

The sound of Dean’s screams can be heard halfway across town as he tries and fails to pry the bright red baseball cap from his head. “SAMMY, HELP!”

“And you didn’t think you could pass for a gamer.”

***********

It’s days after they’ve safely sent Timmy home that Dean discovers Sam playing on the Tretta machine, now safely de-cursed and stored in the basement of the bunker. “ **Really**?! That thing tried to eat me!”

“It’s a collectors item, Dean, and as you said, the Pokemon are so _cute_.”

“Nerd.”

“Luddite.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk!”

 

 

Fin.


End file.
